The Raggedy Angel
by TheMGracie
Summary: When I was a little girl, I had an imaginary friend. And then, one day, he came back.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is an updated post of a story I have semi-abandoned. It is complete and will be multiple chapters, so no abandoning this time! This first chapter is nearly identical to the original, but the rest of the story will be fairly different from what I had intended for the original one.

* * *

Once, when I was a little girl, I met an angel.

He had all the makings of a fairy tale prince and I often spent my afternoons pretending to serve him tea. It never occurred to me that he had an existence outside of the times he came to visit nor that those occasional play dates would end when I would need him most.

I was never sure if he left because of my increasing age, my decreasing faith or something else entirely, but whenever things get a bit too stressful, when exams are looming on the horizon or if the shadows on my bedroom wall seem a bit too close for comfort, I think of the afternoons we spent together.

We always seemed to meet in the empty, over-grown lot down the street. For years it was my fairy glen, later it was my secret escape.

Perhaps my problem is that I maintained our friendship far past the acceptable age of children with "imaginary" friends. Only he wasn't imaginary, or invisible. He was real and he would tell me things about my future that I could never have imagined at any age.

If only he had told me of my mother's future. Maybe then the world would be different. She might still be alive.

That school year, for some unknown reason, the affluent and popular group of girls in my class had decided to befriend me. They would all be spending Christmas in Colorado, on an unsupervised skiing trip. My mother, being the sane individual she was, refused to allow me to go. At the age of thirteen I was beginning to long for independence and could not fathom why she would deny me the experience. So, after making my final demands, I stormed off to the lot.

He was waiting for me.

I hadn't seen him for at least two years. My parents, who had begun to believe I was suffering from delusions, banned my regular visits down the street and sent me to a therapist. I bit her when she told me that my angel wasn't real. Three therapists later, even I started to doubt his existence.

It was a bit of a shock to find him standing there, looking wind-blown and troubled. For the first time I realized just how attractive he was.

And then I started screaming at him.

I guess the bewildered look that crossed his face could've been considered comical, but after I had shouted myself hoarse he uttered only a few words.

"You should apologize to your mother. She cares for you very much. I am sorry for everything."

There was a flutter of wings and he was gone.

I don't remember returning home, but one of my favorite things to recall is that I spent the rest of the afternoon baking Christmas cookies with my mom.

The next day she was called in to the hospital to cover another nurse's shift. She was shot by a patient in the Emergency Room.

After the funeral I ran to the field, hoping he would be there. Hoping I could convince him to let me see my mother one last time. He never came. I spent that night alone on the frozen soil cursing all of the sunny afternoons I spent serving him tea instead of my mother.

My therapist rationalized that he was just a projection of my innocent, childhood subconscious, a part of my mind that left with my mother.

I'm not sure, but I haven't seen him since, my angel. Castiel.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, favorited, or followed this story, especially **Tamie**, **blackamethyst923,** and **mrs**.** leonard mccoy.**_

* * *

Huffing in frustration, I struggled to juggle my umbrella, six bags of groceries, and a package from Aunt Loraine while pulling open the front door. Once I finally gained access to my small one bedroom flat, I released my complaints into the air.

"You know, it'd be nice if that damn door didn't swell every time it rained! I deal with things no normal human being should have to deal with during my rounds. Is it too much to ask that I be able to get inside without using the Jaws of Life?"

A streak of grey and white rushed to meet me and I nearly dropped all of my parcels as my Maine Coon weaved between my legs.

"Yes, yes, hello. I missed you too," I greeted my cat while I waddled to my dining room table to relieve myself of my burdens.

Sighing, once my arms were empty, I brushed my too long fringe out of my eyes and relished in my first moment of silence for several hours. But not for long.

"Grace." I spun sharply on the spot, heart pounding in my chest. It was him, my raggedy angel. Castiel. Immediately, I began to shake; my suddenly shallow breathes incapable of supplying my mind with the oxygen it needed to comprehend such an impossibility.

"You are not real," my tone was accusatory, but didn't mask my panic, "I'm going insane. I have – I've finally cracked. Oh, Jesus. . ." I began pacing in an attempt to dissipate the anxiety bubbling in my stomach.

Through all of this, the angel remained perfectly still, gazing at me in slight concern. "I can assure you, I am not a figment of your imagination. I am real."

At the sound of his voice, the rational part of my mind finally switched on again. My hands dropped to my hips as my anxiety was replaced with anger. "What the Hell are you doing here? After ten years, ten years! You think you can suddenly show up in my home and act like – like – this!"

His gaze dropped from my face to his lap. "I am sorry. For the death of your mother and for leaving you alone in your grief, but I require aid," his eyes refocused on mine, his consternation evident, "and you are the only person I could ask."

My anger, though it was quit to rise, had burnt out quickly and I was left exhausted. I stumbled over to the threadbare couch and sank into the cushions. Without turning to face him, I answered, "I'll help you, but I need to know, why didn't you save her?"

"I was ordered not to, but I'm beginning to see now that maybe that was wrong."

Nodding in acceptance, I finally faced him, "What do you need me to do?"

* * *

I wasn't sure what his answer would be, but I wasn't expecting the simple order of "Wait here" that I received before he disappeared. Suddenly, my apartment felt too big, then my cat decided he needed to meet his daily quotient of attention and began pushing his nose into my palm.

"Well," I sighed, "that was interesting. How about we put away those groceries, hm?"

By the time I had packed everything away and showered Castiel still hadn't returned. In order to avoid my growing worry, I began cleaning every corner of my apartment. The living room was spotless and I was half way through the kitchen when he reappeared. A near giant of a man stood to his left and between them, they supported a third man who looked like he'd gone a few rounds with the Incredible Hulk.

"Where should we put him?" Castiel inquired and I noticed he hadn't gone unscathed either.

"Um, just there on the couch."Already slipping into what my dad calls 'nurse mode', I rushed to my bathroom to find my first aid kit. Returning to the living room, I placed the cloth bag onto the coffee table and secured my hair away from my face. I glanced at the two conscious men expectantly, "So, what happened?"

The taller man shifted uncomfortably, placing his hands in his pockets as he glanced at Castiel, "It was, uh, it was a bar fight."

My eyebrows crept upward of their own volition, "You're a horrible liar, but I'm not going to press you." I turned my back to them, my attention directed toward my new patient. As I gingerly adjusted his head and pulled out a pen light, he began to wake.

"Well, hello Nurse." So, he'd be one of _those_ types of patients.

To prevent myself from rolling my eyes, I settled for a bemused smile, "Hey there, Sailor, do you think you can sit up for me?"

"Anything for a pretty girl like you." His smile would have been attractive, if his face hadn't been marred by several cuts and bruises. I heard a chuckle from the man behind me and he muttered something about knowing everything would be fine if "Dean could still be a playboy".

For the next hour, I went through the process of examining and treating Dean's injuries: a likely concussion, two broken fingers, one bruised rib, one fractured wrist, one large gash on his abdomen that required multiple stitches, and several minor abrasion and cuts. The younger man, whose name I learned was Sam, began apologizing for Dean's behavior after he grinned wolfishly and winked when she ordered him to remove his shirt, "He's just a little . . . overzealous."

"It's fine," I chuckled, "I work in a college town. I've experienced much worse, but you can make up for it by telling what's really going on here."

While Dean dosed, Sam explained what they really did for a living. They hunted _things_. Monsters. They'd been working a job when this occurred, but not one of their "normal" jobs. Not only were monsters real, but I was living in the end times. The Apocalypse. And the group sitting in my living room was trying to stop it. To say I was stunned would be an understatement.

"Okay, wow," I turned to Sam, "well, you should go get some sleep. Take my bed, I'm going to be up processing this for a while and I need to make sure Sleeping Beauty here doesn't slip into a coma." Thankfully, he didn't argue; he just nodded his assent and staggered to my room. Castiel remain stock still in his seat across the room, where he'd stayed throughout the entire ordeal.

"So the Apocalypse," came my attempt to break the growing tension, "you have been busy."

But what I'd meant as an off-hand remark, the angel seemed to take as somber statement. He rose slowly and cross the room to grasp my shoulders. His gaze drilled into mine, alerting me to the gravity of his following statement, "I am truly sorry to involve you in this, but I promise you will not be harmed."

The heavy silence that followed was shattered when Dean began humming Kiss the Girl from the Little Mermaid. Castiel's brow wrinkled in confusion as I sighed, "Lord, give me strength." I moved from his grasp to kneel next to the couch.

Checking the swollen lump on the back of Dean's head, I admonished his behavior, "Stop being an ass."

He replied with a boyish smile, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Uh huh, just wait until I tell your brother you watch Disney movies." All humor was wiped from his face at this threat.

Rising, I turned to continue my conversation with Castiel, but he was gone. I sighed to myself, "Damn angels."

Dean's quiet reply brought a smile to my lips, "Amen."


	3. Chapter 3

_A big thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, or followed including: **kankuroizawesome, Avalonmyst, Tamie, ramitora22, Meriadeth, angel de acuario, Animals are my Life,** and** alovethatwillneverbe. **You guys are absolutely awesome! _

_This one's a lot shorter than last chapter and I'm not too sure how happy I am with it, but it doesn't seem to want to change any more. : )_

_Please, let me know what you think, even if it's bad. I promise I can take the heat!_

* * *

The Winchester brothers and I became fast friends in the week they crashed in my apartment. Within the first day, they had begun to seamlessly integrate themselves into my life, as if they'd always belonged. Sam proctored my Nursing Care of Vulnerable Populations lecture. When I asked why he wanted to go, he just shrugged and replied, "Hunters seem like a pretty vulnerable population, you know?" Dean spent his time hitting on naive freshmen at local bars. And I was just relieved to finally to have others around who didn't label me as insane whenever I talked about Castiel.

On their second night, Dean's concussion was no longer a risk to his health and he decided to raid my meager liquor cabinet. That night I learned the whole story, beginning with their mother's death nearly twenty-five years ago to Castiel pulling Dean from Hell. I wanted to weep for them. The pain of losing my own mother continued to weigh on my heart, but the hardships they had endured afterward were unimaginable.

For the rest of their stay I found myself blurting out "thank you" for no reason at all. Sam kept looking at me like I was losing my mind, but I think Dean seemed to understand. It was my attempt to thank them for all the times they had stopped a monster or saved someone without any form of recognition or gratitude.

It's strange getting to know Sam and Dean. Upon meeting them, I assumed that Dean was the "bad cop" and Sam was the "good cop". From the clothes they wore, to their tastes in music, down to the way they walked, it's just what their personas scream. But as I talked to them, got to know them, I found that those first impressions were nothing but the versions of themselves they present to the world.

Not that Sam's some cold-hearted lunatic, or that Dean's as gooey and sweet as caramel toffee.

They're just not what you'd expect.

One night, in the middle of the night during a thunder storm, I found Dean whispering encouragement to my cat in an attempt to calm him down. The next day Sam told a group of frat guys, "Shut the Hell up before I punch you in the face" while I sat in the library studying.

Eventually the question of how exactly I knew Castiel was brought up. It was one of my days off between my seemingly endless stream of classes and hospital rotations. I was attempting to make enough pasta to satisfy the ravenous Winchester appetites, when Dean leaned on the countertop to my right, "So, what's the deal with you and Cas?"

Smirking, I replied, "Why, are you jealous?" Dean sputtered while Sam laughed at his brother's expense. I chuckled and switched off the stove top before turning to face him, folding my arms across my chest. "It's a bit of a long story, I'll tell you while we eat."

Apparently Dean and I had assumed the same thing: that the angel simply ceased to exist whenever he wasn't busy invading our personal space or giving us cryptic messages.

Before they left, I was taught a few hunting basics: how to do things like properly salt doors and windows, draw a devil's trap and bless holy water. Sam even gave me a script to perform a simple exorcism, but Dean made me promise to call them for help first. In return I had a spare key for my front door made and ordered them to stop by whenever they were in the area.

I was more than a bit surprised when it was Dean who started emailing me with regular updates, his aversion to technology usually left Sam with the task of maintaining contacts. Many of his messages recounted incidents when Castiel had taken some human phrase a bit too seriously.

Every night, as I drifted off to sleep, I prayed that they could pull it off, that the three of them could save all of humanity from the proverbial bullet speeding toward it.

And every morning, as I opened my eyes, I hoped that today would be the day that Castiel would appear and tell me they had succeeded.


	4. Chapter 4

_A big thank you to eveyone who reviewed/favorited/followed including **superkiran, hockeywife87, Da RaNdOm PeRsOn, PannaKatarzyna, GoForTehGig,** and **MyahLuffrel.** I also want to apoligize for taking a while to post, it's the end of the semester and one of my lab partners gave me strep throat._

_Well, this is the end. I guess this story is now technically AU as I end it with season 5. I love seasons 6 and 7, but I just felt like season 5 would have been a perfect ending for the series. But I can't complain too much because, I'm not sure what I'd do if Supernatural wasn't on TV any more._

_I also didn't want to involve Grace in the Winchester's lives too much; they've never really been one for keeping up with the people they meet._

_So, here it is, let me know what you think, even if you hate it. : )_

* * *

At first, I received weekly updates from Dean, mostly via email, but there was the occasional phone call sprinkled into the mix. As time went on, the correspondence crumbled. At the time I had assumed that it was merely because he and the rest of the Golden Trio were out saving the unsuspecting world; surely he'd let me know when they accomplished their task. When _that_ call never came, my optimistic nature reassured that he had simply forgotten about "that nurse who helped him out that one time". I rationalized that the world would have to notice if the Apocalypse broke out, but I was wrong.

It was nearly two years after I first met the Winchesters that I learned the truth about what happened while the rest of humanity continued their blissful existence. During that time, I'd finished Nursing school, earned a position at the state's best emergency medical facility and been promoted to charge nurse. After one particularly long, weekend shift I had forgone a night out with friends for a quiet night in, alone with my cat and a good book.

And then someone unlocked my front door.

As I ran to the kitchen, in search of a good weapon, a man entered. It was Dean Winchester. And he looked even worse than the first time I clapped eyes on him.

At the sight of me wielding a large knife, Dean spread his arms in the universal sign of surrender, "Honey, I'm home." Dropping my 'weapon' to the counter, I rushed to his side. After easing him onto the same threadbare sofa, I tried to comprehend how he made it here in his condition. Forget managing to make it to my apartment:

"How are you still alive?"

"Trust me," he grunted in an attempt to find a comfortable position, "I keep asking myself the same thing."

This time, it took much longer than an hour to patch up his wounds and it took nearly two weeks of crashing on my couch for him to recover enough to finally explain to me what had happened.

They hadn't succeeded. The Apocalypse had started. Castiel had gone searching for a missing God. Sam was trapped in Hell. Castiel was gone. And the entire human race was oblivious to how close to the end of all things they had been.

Eventually Dean decided it was time for him to move on. He told me all about Lisa and Ben and his final promise to Sam. This time he swore to keep in touch. And he did.

Over time, the Winchester-Braeden clan became like family to me. I even joined them in Cicero, Indiana, after my father's death. I taught Ben first aid. Lisa gave me free yoga lessons. Dean teased me for dating a guy that looked like Castiel's former vessel. Dean also beat the crap out of that guy when he broke our engagement, leaving me for someone else.

The world kept turning. We kept living.

After four years in Cicero, I joined Doctors Without Borders, something Dean was not happy about. I was shipped to Uganda. It was six months into my service there, when a band of the Lord's Resistance Army broke into our clinic to steal medications and conscript our pediatric patients to their ranks. Any member of the staff that resisted was gunned down.

Dean always said I was too damn righteous for my own good.

Dying is . . . strange. God knows, the Winchesters have crossed over more times than anyone would care to count, but for a majority of us it's a singular experience. It was warmth, and light, and a sense of completeness I had search for all my life, but never found. Once I gained my bearings, I realized I wasn't alone. My raggedy angel, Castiel was there. He was glorious, shining in a way he never could on Earth. Silent, he held out a hand to me, and lead me onward into Eternity.

"_And as He spoke, He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: In which every chapter is better than the one before."_

_The Last Battle by C.S. Lewis_


End file.
